


3 Halves Make a Whole

by PatPrecieux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, First Time, M/M, Single Parent John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 22:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9405602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: John does the math.** Once AGAIN my phone and AO3 have hacked my sanity and posted an unfinished work. This is the WHOLE  thing, pun intended.





	

**Author's Note:**

> John realizes that he is incomplete. Now he needs to balance the equation.

John Watson was besotted with his young daughter. Every gurgle, burp, and even diaper change left him giddy with the delight of being a dad. Although, parenthood had challenges.

 

Rosie was a good baby, but the colic was no respecter of goodness. At four months, she and John both suffered it's effects. For days he soothed her through pain and distress, holding Rosie over his lap trying desperately to ease her discomfort.

 

It put him in mind of the helplessness he felt in combat, being the doctor who couldn't always make things better. Molly would lend a hand on occasion, as would Mrs.Hudson. Hell, even Sherlock tried to help, taking advantage of their declared "truce."

 

The fact was, though, he couldn't ask anyone to deal with his screaming child when he could barely cope himself. It had taken him several months to really recover from the stress of lack of sleep and poor self care. He found himself forgetting to eat, and his hours at the clinic suffered from his exhaustion.

 

When it seemed things were brighter, Rosie began teething. It was a rite of passage that parent and child would have to endure. At his wits end, one night, John got out the whiskey and poured a glass. After all, he thought, people had been rubbing "spirits" on babies gums for centuries to soothe and aid sleep.

 

Then, the voice of reason. Shit, maybe so, but that glass of booze wasn't for Rosie. He threw the liquid down the drain and tried to rest. Jesus, he was just so tired.

 

Finally, Rosie seemed to be in a period between the usual baby complaints and ailments. As he sat in the flat one day feeding Rosie her lunch, he was startled to realize he was eating the puréed beef and carrots right along with the baby. He was covered in grime and wet from the juice she had managed to spit on him.

 

His CD player was loaded with "Songs for a Happy Baby", and the DVD player waiting to play Teletubbies, for God's sake. Turning his back for only a moment, a crash came from the kitchen, where the lino was now wearing a fresh coat of beef and carrots. The nearby wall and underside of the table were also adorned.

 

In that instant, Captain Watson emerged. "Rosamund Mary Watson", he roared in fine Fusilier form. For a moment, she only looked at him, eyes wide. Then her lip trembled and she began to wail. 

 

John rushed over and picked her up, mess and all, clutching the frightened child to his chest. He had never even spoken loudly around Rosie much less shouted. "Damn it", he cursed under his breath.

 

They sat in the sitting room, John cooing and rocking her until she calmed. Knowing she wouldn't understand, he still spoke. "Daddy is so sorry darling. I never meant to scare you. It's just..." He paused debating what he was about to say. It would be admitting something he had been avoiding for months.

 

Sighing, he continued, "Daddy loves you very much my angel, but Daddy is so so lonely." There! He said it. Now came the more difficult admission. Who it was that he was lonely for.

 

~~~***~~~

 

Two weeks later, he was using the key he had always meant to return, to let himself into Baker Street. The very soul of the old building seemed to wrap him in a warm embrace like a Prodigal Son. He had left his house to come to his home.

 

Mrs.Hudson came out, gooey potato masher in hand, ready to defend Queen and Country. "John? It's you dear!" Her embrace was strong and real. He began to laugh as he felt cold mash dripping down inside the back of his shirt collar.

 

"Sorry luv, goodness how can you be laughing?"

 

"Thinking my last case at 221B would be "The Murderous Potato Masher." What a terrible end, not a sausage in sight."

 

"There's plenty on the stove. Now come along."

 

"Thanks, but I should really go up and..."

 

"Sherlock's gone to lunch with Greg and Mycroft. Shouldn't think they'll be back for hours. Since those two have gotten together, they have forced Sherlock to be less of a hermit. YOU are the one needs fattening up. In my flat this minute. Don't make me use this weapon."

 

Grinning, he followed her to the first decent meal he'd had in days. As he ate the second piece of pie "forced" on him, John gave in to just how much he missed Home.

 

"How is our sweet baby girl? With Molly is she?"

 

John looked down in defeat, "No, I...you're going to be cross. She is going to be with Harry and Diana for awhile. She's fine but, Christ this is hard."

 

She reached across the table and took his hand, "John, stop. It's very brave of you to admit it's all a bit much for you right now."

 

"But she's my child, I'm meant to care for her, not send her off like a dog to a kennel."

 

"Nonsense! Harry has been sober for three years and her pediatrician wife is hardly a kennel cleaner. Anyone can see you are knackered John. NOT getting help would be neglectful. So she gets to spit up, cry and be happy with her Aunties. Family."

 

His eyes glazed over, "Family. Just so."

 

She poured more tea smiling softly, "And you are lonely, for him. He misses you too, John, terribly."

 

"Mrs.Hudson, I can't talk about this."

 

"Of course not dear, this is a conversation for the two of you alone."

 

"Would you mind if I went up and waited for him?"

 

"Not a bit. Don't forget your bag that you hid in the front closet before I came out."

 

"How did you know that?"

 

"You came to make a new start, but didn't want to seem pushy. Well, you need to be pushy. Sherlock is "growing up", but he's still clueless when it comes to love. And don't you dare deny that word John Watson. A blind person could see it."

 

With a pat and a peck on the cheek, she sent him upstairs. Mrs.Hudson was still not their housekeeper, but she would enthusiastically give advice to the lovelorn. 

 

~~~***~~~

 

Sherlock flounced into 221B ignoring that he had actually enjoyed lunch with the British Government and his Goldfish. He snorted, he no longer needed to think of Gino, Gabriel, or Gordo. Lestrade was now Goldfish.

 

The detective found himself strangely content that his brother seemed to be really happy. Sherlock feeling sentiment, absurd! Still, if Mycroft and Goldfish got along, so be it.

 

Accustomed to being alone, he never even looked around the flat anymore; a lapse which he was sure one day would get him attacked by a French Sumo Wrestler hiding behind the sofa. The sofa where John was currently watching him.

 

"Well John, if you were here, I would demand you make us tea. Since you're not, I'll offer to make you some."

 

"And since I AM here, you madman, I'll accept. No spoiled milk though."

 

Sherlock actually jumped up on the coffee table, promptly lost his balance and landed on a prone John with a wump.

 

"Glad to see you too, but ow! Sherlock."

 

The taller man made to get up, but John pulled him back down. They were nose to nose, chest to chest, and, to Sherlock's anxiety, bits to bits.

 

"I was wondering how to get you to stay still long enough to have a talk. This will work."

 

"John why are you here? What has happened? Where is Rosie?"

 

"I wanted to see you, nothing, and I returned her to the Baby factory for a ten month check up. You know, change the fluids, check the body work."

 

"You took her to Hospital?" 

 

"That was meant to be funny. I took her to stay with Harry and Diana for a bit. I'm at the end of my tether."

 

For the first time, Sherlock really looked at John. "You are near exhaustion. Not sleeping, malnourished, extremely stressed. This is all because I..."

 

"Sherlock, we are done with all that. It's the past, we can't change it. What we CAN change is the here and now, and our future."

 

"OUR future?"

 

"If you want, luv. Listen, I love Rosie so much it hurts, and she completes me as parent and child. But it's not enough Sherlock. I have been fighting this for months, and the truth is, parent and child is only part of me. The other part of me is YOU and me."

 

If Sherlock was supposed to say something, he couldn't deduce what it would be.

 

"Guess what I'm saying, genius, is that there's three pairs of us. Rosie and me, you and me, and you and Rosie. Sounds cracked, but seems that's what it's going to take to complete me."

 

"You realize John, your math is atrocious. By your calculations, 3 halves make a whole."

 

"As long as the equation balances, gives us the right answer. What I need to know, is it the right answer for you?"

 

"I'm so lost without you John, is that answer enough?"

 

"Perfect, bloody perfect. Sherlock, I want to kiss you, ok?"

 

"If you don't I may attack you."

 

"Can't have that in my weakened condition. Come here you." John captured the bow lips in his and kissed until they couldn't breathe.

 

They both fervently hoped that Rosie never asked about their first sexual escapade. A story about two men, 40 and 45, frotting on the sofa until they came in their pants like thirteen year olds was decidedly unromantic. So unromantic, they had an encore.

 

Sherlock had wisely pointed out that cleaning up twice was a waste of energy. Energy that could be better used for carnal pursuits. He briefly regretted the choice, however, upon discovering that John had videoed him walking to the loo looking for all the world like Rosie toddling around with a full nappie.

 

They showered, taking in every inch of each other with hungry eyes, and gentle hands. Sherlock dried John as tenderly as he would Rosie, and John spent "days" getting Sherlock's hair tangle free and soft.

 

With no discussion they climbed into Sherlock's bed and wrapped around each other. "John, I want the solar system of sex with you from the Sun to Uranus."

 

"You silver tongued devil you. I want to give you the moon."

 

"Good, that covers astronomy. But my magnificent brain tells me my Sun, my conductor of light, needs sleep, then love. A universe of love."

 

"Wish I could disagree pet, but I am beyond tired. Tomorrow?"

 

"Tomorrow, the next day, next week, next month, next year, to infinity."

 

John giggled, "To infinity and beyond."

 

"You are seriously quoting Buzz Lightyear, now, in bed?"

 

"Seems so."

 

"We will bring Rosie to Baker Street as soon as you are well, and moved back in. Until then, we are giving you a steady diet of sleep, healthy food and adult conversation."

 

"Yes dear. Home, sounds good. Can you show me, show me the way to Sesame Street."

 

"A great deal of adult conversation, and other adult activities."

 

"But no math, the 3 halves makes a whole thing."

 

Sherlock kissed John and held him close. "I think your math is brilliant John. However you added it up, you found the right answer. 3 halves and three words make US whole. I love you."

 

John snuggled his head into Sherlock's chest and began to sing, "I love you, you love me, we're a happy family. With a great big hug and kiss from me to you, won't you say you love me too?"

 

"Barney the Purple Dinosaur. Tomorrow John we are having sex while listening to Bach and reading Shakespeare. Go to sleep my beloved, we're home."

**Author's Note:**

> Huge Kudos to all the single dads. I just feel, John was so "battle worn" at the end of TFP, he would have needed LOTS of help to recover. Real men aren't afraid to admit to having a weakness.
> 
> ** For any Maths geeks (xoxo) out there, the 3 halves thing is a metaphor and plot device. No tutorials please on the subject. ;)


End file.
